


Deux Ex Machina

by HeLovedYou



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Electroconvulsive Therapy, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeLovedYou/pseuds/HeLovedYou
Summary: When enough years pass by, he’ll look back and the alien invasion will be a haze. The days, weeks, months that pass will be some of the worst of his life.But right now, he’s living in the moment’s past and everything seems- bearable.And if he goes to bed hoping he won’t wake, well, he’s adjusting. He’s allowed that.Isn’t he?
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Avengers Team, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24
Collections: Stony's Sad Secret Santa





	Deux Ex Machina

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChocolateCapCookie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCapCookie/gifts).



> This is for my giftee, ChocolateCapCookie. I really hope you like it!  
> Thank you to [tinytelepathy](https://tinytelepathy.tumblr.com/) for polishing things off with the last minute beta.
> 
> ***warning for themes of mental illness and discussion of suicide***
> 
> I also listened to ["Sweet Hibiscus Tea" by Penelope Scott](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UEggO_aqX5w) on repeat while writing this, if you want a better idea of the vibes I wanted this fic to have.

When Steve Rogers wakes up, it’s to the impossible. 

The commentary of a baseball game reaches his ears long before his eyes open and he has a moment of confusion, of blissful ignorant confusion, before he realises that can only mean something is very, very wrong. 

He opens his eyes and from that moment on, _everything_ just seems to go downhill. 

They tell him they won. He nods when Nick Fury tells him, looking over his shoulder as he leads him down the too bright corridors of SHIELD. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s glad. But he’s also not stupid. He’s lived too exposed a life to take anything at face value, so the first chance he gets he takes a cab to the nearest library and checks out what feels like every World War Two book they have. 

Nick Fury was right, it turns out – they won the war. But he turns pages with words like _internment camp_ _s,_ _killed prisoners of war_ _,_ _mushroom cloud_ and he wonders if they didn’t lose something far more important. 

He wakes that night shaking, massacred civilians and prisoners of war swimming in front of him. 

He doesn’t throw up. He’s not that naïve. 

He had been on the frontlines, has mixed his own blood with others, taken dirty shoes from dead bodies, gagged on the smell of gunpowder. 

He’s not so naïve to have thought they would somehow be better, but knowing it in the distant realms of his mind feels different than looking at pictures, reading eye-witness accounts or listening to survivors’ stories. 

After that, he throws himself into catching up on everything. He doesn’t miss the raised eyebrows Phil Coulson tries to hide the first couple times he asks for extra reading materials, but the catching up isn’t actually that hard. Thanks to the serum, he only ever needs to be shown how to do anything once and most of the stuff they show him is pretty basic anyway. He thinks he sort of disappointed the agent showing him his smartphone by not being more impressed. It’s almost like they forget he fist fought a guy with a red skull. 

And it’s a stupid thought to get hung up on, but he can’t help think, _isn’t that the problem?_

He reads every history book he can get his hands on, scours the internet, and everything shows him the same thing: a country that all too eagerly forgets its sins, so it can justify their repeat over decades, over centuries. 

So, when aliens descend on New York and the World Security Council decides to throw a nuke at it, he can’t say he’s surprised. He finds it hard to even muster up the energy to feel outraged, but as he watches Tony Stark plummet back to earth, he feels _something_ spark. 

He does his best to cling to that. 

For a while, he does. 

He manages to cling long enough to laugh when Tony Stark suggests shawarma. 

Long enough to actually go to the relatively intact shawarma place. 

Long enough to actually agree when Stark mentions free apartment floors once repairs on his tower are done. 

* * *

When, several weeks later, he gets an email from potts.virginia@starkmail.com with the notice that _Mr Stark, aka the Iron Man, would like to extend an official invitation to Captain Steven Rogers to stay at the newly repaired rooms in Stark Tower_ , he gives only a moment’s hesitation before packing his bag and booking the next available flight. 

He puts his eagerness down to courtesy – after all, he did already agree to the arrangement, and it would be wrong to leave Mr Stark waiting and wondering if he would actually show. Plus, he hasn’t seen most of the team since the invasion, and if the Avengers team is intended to be long term, it would be in everyone’s best interests to be close together for both training and response. 

This is what he tells himself and the others when he sheepishly drips rain water onto the polished wood of the communal floor of the tower a few hours later. He doesn’t mention being unable to bear his neighbour’s friendly greeting every morning or the odd sensation he feels at seeing the group of teenagers laugh and joke with each other in the coffee shop down the street. 

* * *

Living with the others is… strange. He still works to catch up on everything he’s missed, the team even going so far as to declare Friday movie night to help him catch up on the pop culture aspect, although he suspects it’s more for their benefit than his. Either way, it’s good team building, so he lets it slide. 

Apart from that, though, they’re not exactly the 107th. Stark has his company to run, Thor splits his time between Asgard, Jane, and the Avengers, and Natasha, Clint, and himself have their own SHIELD assigned missions. He figures the best start to making their unlikely team at the very least functional is training together, so he proposes a provisional timetable the next time he finds everyone gathered in the kitchen. 

He feels somewhat unbalanced when he gets met with raised eyebrows and laughter. 

“Chill, Cap,” Barton claps him in the shoulder, “This isn’t the army, and it’s not the 1940s.” 

Steve feels himself bristle at that. He opens his mouth to snap back when Stark interrupts. 

“Barton, we’re not all SHIELD trained, super-secret spies. The Capsicle may have a point.” 

Steve falters and turns to Stark in surprise. Out of everyone on the team, he hadn’t expected Mr _Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist_ to be the one in favour of group exercises. 

He nods at Stark who takes a sip of his coffee. Steve turns back to face Barton and takes a breath. 

“I appreciate I’m not completely aware of how things are done now; I can revise this schedule and run it by everyone then?” 

Tony grips his shoulder as he walks by. 

“Sounds good, Cap, and maybe this time cut the eight-hour Saturday session to four hours and maybe move it to Tuesday? We’re not all-” Tony gestures up and down at Steve before wandering through the door. 

Steve frowns as Barton snorts behind him. 

“Seriously, man.” 

Steve turns to face Barton, who’s holding up the page with the schedule. Steve notes the chocolate stain on it. 

“Two hours Sunday morning and six in the afternoon? When’s the downtime? Gotta play hard to work hard.” 

“He’s right, for once,” Natasha smirks. 

Steve just shakes his head. He’s pretty sure that’s not the saying. 

* * *

After that, he puts a significantly revised version to the team, which seems to be met with approval. 

* * *

And so it goes. 

Steve spends a lot of his time devising various strategies, coming up with every scenario he can think of, just in case. 

He even sits down with Thor a couple of times to discuss the potential for future alien invasions. 

“Captain,” Thor starts as they both stand from the animal skin stools in front of the fireplace on Thor’s floor. “I admire your dedication to this team.” 

Steve frowns in turn. 

“Doing my job hardly seems that admirable.” 

“Still, I believe even before this, you had a great deal being asked of you, and yet you throw yourself into this challenge, too.” Thor grips his shoulder and Steve almost startles back at the contact. “I intend to stay at the tower for some days yet, you should join me in my quarters when we are not discussing battle preparations. I have some very fine Asgardian mead that I think would be to your liking and I am eager to hear of your own battle tales, I’m sure they are in abundance!” 

“I’d love to, Thor.” Steve smiles and shakes his hand, before turning to head back to his own floor. 

Later that night he stares at the ceiling, hands clasped across his stomach. Truly, he _would_ love to, but he understands the obligation to ask, just for politeness’ sake. Wouldn’t it be awkward to take Thor up on an offer that clearly wasn’t genuine? He’d probably make a fool of himself; they’d have nothing to talk about, it would just be awkward. 

And even if he did manage to keep the conversation going, surely it would nonetheless be awkward seeing as he’s their captain. He’s more or less their boss, and not wanting your boss around is hardly a modern concept. Heck, he remembers grumbling to Bucky about how Mr. O’Shea never left him alone when he used to work on the docks. 

There are a million reasons not to. 

And even if there weren’t, he’s honestly not sure he’d have the energy. Something about the future leaves him feeling worn to the bone, even if he’s spent most of the day sleeping in what’s probably one of the most expensive beds in the city. 

He rolls over and shuts he eyes and hopes he wakes in the morning somewhere he belongs. It hasn’t happened yet, but it might. 

It might. 

* * *

It doesn’t happen. 

He’s not surprised, nor is he an idiot. He may have been in hand-to-hand combat with several aliens and sleep two floors below a living, breathing Norse god, but he knows there’s limits and time travel is something he’s not sure he’d be okay with, even if it did exist, which he’s relatively certain it doesn’t. 

So, he’s not surprised, and yet he still can’t suppress the disappointment that echoes in his aching chest. 

* * *

He convinces himself to head down to the communal kitchen. It wouldn’t be good for team dynamics if their leader were to skip over every opportunity to be with those he’s leading. 

And if he skips over _most_ of them, well, they can’t expect him to be everywhere at all times. Captain America is a busy man after all. 

(Captain America is a busy man. He spends his time devising new strategies and revising and reviewing old ones. He appears to the public and provides a symbol of whatever it is they need – hope, strength, courage – whatever it is, Captain America is nothing but a provider. 

So Captain America _is_ a busy man. 

Steve Rogers, on the other hand- 

Steve Rogers spends his time obsessing over preparing for ways the world could end, even though he knows it’s pointless to try to plot every potentially disastrous event. 

Steve Rogers doesn’t always see the point in getting out of bed, let alone in maintaining a mindset of hope. 

But that’s okay. 

He can still keep it together when it counts and that’s all that matters.) 

Steve heads down to the kitchen to find Bruce at the island, clutching a mug of something steaming. 

“Steve,” Bruce nods his head in greeting. 

“Good morning, Dr Banner.” 

At that, Banner’s eyebrows draw together ever so slightly and his smile softens into something more… pitying. 

Steve schools his own face into something neutral, resisting the urge to scowl and snap at Banner to _sit up straight and quit slouching!_

Instead, he shuffles past and pulls out a loaf of bread and drops a couple slices in the toaster. 

He’s not sure how long he’s standing there, watching the orange glow as the toaster heats up, before he realises the silence between himself and Banner probably isn’t what would be called companionable. 

He clears his throat. 

“How have you been, Doctor?” 

Banner nods into his tea and looks up, a thoughtful expression marring his features. 

“Well, I’ve been adjusting. I guess you can relate to that.” 

Something hot and angry twinges in his chest. Steve tamps it down. 

“I’ve been living in opposition to our government for so long, I don’t know how it feels to be working with them. It’s strange. What about you? I’m sure you’ve got lots to catch up on.” 

Steve catches his toast as it pops out. He hesitates over the jelly and reaches for butter instead. He pulls it out and starts spreading it before shrugging. 

“Yes, it’s a lot. SHIELD’s given a lot of guidance, and Agent Coulson has been great help.” 

Steve can feel Banner’s eyes on him as he puts the knife in the sink and when he turns to out the butter back in the fridge, he’d swear he could feel holes being bored into his back. 

“You know, Steve-” and Banner’s tone is carefully neutral and Steve feels himself tense almost unconsciously at the sound of it. 

“It’s completely understandable if there you still have a lot to catch up on. If you like, I could give you a hand? Or I’m sure someone else would be happy to help, too; we’ve all had our fair share of traumas.” 

He’s not sure why exactly but his tenuous hold on the anger that’s been building the entire time he’s been here breaks and he finds himself snapping, “That won’t be a problem, Doctor,” before stalking out of the room. 

It’s only as he finds himself unlocking his bedroom door that he starts to process what happened. He finds himself on the edge of the bed, hands shaking. 

He didn’t mean to snap. He’s just tired, and it’s been a long week, and he hasn’t eaten yet and- and he don’t mean it. It’s not like him. 

He sits for a little while longer and watches his hands shake. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe. 

On the exhale, he admits quietly in his head that he’s not himself. Hasn’t been since he’s woken up in that ridiculous room they had him in. 

The admission is more painful than he’d like to admit. 

* * *

He goes about as normal as he can in the aftermath of... that. He purposely avoids putting a name to it, but after a few days he realises he may have to. 

And he intends to, really. He opens Google on his laptop, where he finds terms like _clinical depression, PTSD, panic attack._

It’s... a lot. 

He takes his time sorting through all the information before he even starts to think about a solution, but before he can, life somehow manages to gets the drop on him again and he finds himself locked in battle with a hauntingly familiar face. 

It’s chaos after that. 

He doesn’t let it show, of course – there is, after all, the safety of millions at stake as well, and he didn’t get through European trenches with nothing to show for it. He knows how to compartmentalise. He also knows that if Bucky hadn’t been loyal to him all those years ago, he wouldn’t be doing Hydra’s bidding today. 

So, he helps save the world – again. 

And he does everything he can think of to save the Winter Soldier. 

(And if he feels relief as the shield hits the floor, takes pleasure in hit after hit, allows gratitude to wash over him as he plummets to the waters below – well, that’s nothing anyone else will have to know. 

When he wakes to find Sam Wilson smiling down on him, he just feels weary.) 

After, there’s damage control. Of course there is. One of the most powerful organisations in the world has just been revealed to have been the enemy right from the beginning and people are scared. 

Scared, and angry. 

Steve agrees to interviews, talk shows, press conferences and Captain America reassures betrayed and shocked citizens that America – the whole world – is as secure as ever. 

He’s still not literally a dancing monkey, but it feels like a close thing – it’s all just PR, sound bites, polished smiles. He’s not an idiot, he knows that’s all it is, and the public aren’t idiots either – not completely – they know the WSC will hush this up as best they can. 

* * *

_We’re standing outside the White House, where Captain America has been in talks with the President about improving national security, in light of the recent exposure of Hydra amongst the top security clearances of the American government._

_Hydra, the Nazi weapons division and long-time enemy of the Captain, were exposed and supposedly defeated by none other than Captain America, as well as several agents from the former SHIELD. We turn to Corey now, who has just come out of a press conference with the President and Captain America, aka Steve Rogers. Corey?_

_Thanks, Sandra. The conference has just finished, and to be honest, I’m not quite sure what good those talks were. Captain Rogers seemed to be telling a different story from everyone else in that room. Uh, someone asked whether or not Hydra has been fully eradicated from the government, and, while the President and official White House staff have been adamant that they have purged every last so-called Hydra agent, the Captain said that ‘to tell the truth, it may take a while to be fully sure of that, or we may never be sure. People can rest assured, though, that I and the rest of the Avengers will do our very best to ensure the safety of the public.’_

_I mean, you really have to wonder, Sandra, is it possible Captain Rogers is also Hydra? It turns out that several of his associates at SHIELD were Hydra, most notably Agent Brock_ _Rumlow_ _, who it has been revealed is the notorious mercenary known as Cross Bones._

_Can we really trust Captain America? Or do we have to start questioning exactly what kind of plan the Star-Spangled Man has in store for us? Maybe his version of events is part of a grander scheme to make us not trust the government. Either way, it’s clear that not everything is all apple pie behind the curtains._

* * *

Steve stands, arms braced on the railing that runs along the edge of the roof of Stark Tower. He watches the hairs on his arms raise and a shiver runs through him as a warm breeze ruffles his hair.

God. 

He’s pretty sure the only reason he can remember the last time he had time to himself is thanks to the serum. 

He doesn’t blame people for their anger or their distrust, hell, he’d probably be suspicious of himself, too. 

But that doesn’t stop the ache he can feel deep in his chest, it doesn’t stop the feeling of hopelessness that claws at him – doesn't stop him from looking down through the darkness at the pavement 93 stories below and wondering if the serum would set him free if he were to jump. 

He wouldn’t. 

Not in the middle of the street like that, where any poor soul could find his mangled body. 

No, in his line of work, it would be all too easy to be just a breath too slow, a tad too reckless. Better for everyone if it looked like an accident, better still for him if it looked like an act of bravery, instead of the ultimate act of cowardice. 

Rationally, he knows that would be best, and still, he finds his gaze drifting down to the quiet streets below... 

He takes a shaky inhale and swallows. 

_Shit_

He stumbles back, almost tripping over his own feet as he moves towards the door, fumbling for the handle behind him, unable to take his eyes off the balcony railing. His hand brushes against the handle and he grips it, frantic to be away from whatever it is that’s seemed to overtake him. 

He manages to push the handle down and he falls back inside, closing the door and finally putting his back to the railing outside. He stands there a moment before his feet, on autopilot, start to take him back up to his own room. Before they can even leave the room though, he almost knocks Tony down as he comes in. 

“Tony- Stark, I-” 

He watches as Tony looks up and whatever words he was about to say die before they can fall off his tongue. 

“Steve, you alright? You’re looking a little green around the gills.” 

It’s been a long night. He’s tired, and tired and maybe a little lonely, so he lets the words escape him in a whisper. 

“No.” 

He can feel his heart pounding and his head grow a little light headed as he clears his throat. 

“I’m not-” his voice fails him and all he can do is follow when Tony grips his forearms gently and tugs him down so they’re sitting facing each other on the floor. 

“I’ve seen the news and Natasha’s told me a little-” 

He shakes his head vigorously. God, how can he make him understand it’s not just about Hydra, or even Bucky – it's everything. It’s about how he can’t bring himself to buy anything that’s not for work because he doesn’t see a point, because none of this feels real. It’s how he was glad to not have to hear his neighbour wax about how great the cold brew, multi serve, concentrated herbal tea is at Starbucks, because he doesn’t understand what’s wrong with regular black coffee. 

It’s how he aches with the need to protect people, and how those people don’t need or want it. 

Tony squeezes his arm. 

“I’m sure it’s not-” 

“Tony, I just stood on the roof and talked myself out of jumping off and- I'm not-” 

He looks away, head stuffed full of thoughts racing too quickly for him to fully catch. 

_God_ _,_ _that’s so_ _fucked_ _up_

_How are you fit to be a leader like this?_

_He’ll hate you. You’ve tricked him_ _– all of them –_ _into believing you’re exactly everything you’re not._ _You’re not brave or strong, you’re a pathetic shell of a man who breaks down in front of strangers_ _._

As he thinks it, he realises he’s curled in on himself and his breaths are coming in great hiccupping gasps. 

Distantly, he registers Tony as he wraps his arms around his shaking form. He thinks Tony might be saying something, but he can’t hear over the roaring in his ears. 

They simply sit there as Steve sobs himself into being. 

* * *

**Epilogue**

“You okay?” 

Steve looks down as Tony squeezes his hand. 

In truth, he’s terrified. But he’s well aware that _this_ – the panic attacks, the insomnia, the constant anxiety about how the world could end – it's not a sustainable way of living. He can admit that much. 

And the team have all been so patient in recent weeks, supporting him with the announcement that Captain America would be taking a break from the public eye and reluctantly agreeing to wait two weeks at his frantic insistence, _just to see if symptoms persisted,_ because that was the advice he had read online. 

And after the two weeks were up and he still wasn’t feeling better, there were no _I told you so’s_ , no patronising looks or rolled eyes. There was simply the gentle push to talk to a professional. 

Which finds him here, in the waiting room of a former SHIELD psychologist who Nick Fury had originally recommended for him and who turned out not to be Hydra and who he has been assured will do nothing he's not comfortable with. He thinks back with a grimace at Sam's surprised expression when he had asked tentatively about electroshock therapy at their breakfast the previous morning. 

“Well, it’s called electroconvulsive therapy now, and yeah, some professionals still use it. They won’t do anything without your approval though, man, and if they do, you’ve got the Avengers lined up to kick their ass.” 

Part of him feels relieved, and part of him feels... disappointed. At least if the choice was taken out of his hands, there wouldn’t be the risk of letting anyone down. And he thinks he’d do anything, anyway. 

Anything to lift the veil between him and life. 

He startles out of his thoughts when Tony lays his hand on his arm. 

“See you after for lunch?” Tony grins up at him. 

Steve smiles shyly. He’s grateful to the whole team for their understanding and compassion, but Tony has stuck with him for the majority of the past few weeks and, maybe unsurprisingly, they’ve grown closer. They both agree that now isn’t the best time for a new relationship, but they’re also both aware of the strange dynamic between them – not quite lovers, not exactly friends. 

It’s something they’re both looking forward to exploring when the time is right. 

For now, he has therapy, a team of wonderful people behind him, and lunch with the man who quite possibly saved his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I hope it was what you were looking for, ChocolateCapCookie :)


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